


The Lioness Born Yesterday

by orphan_account



Series: The Lions of Summer and the Wolves of Winter [2]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Sansa and Tyrion would be good for each other, from the Lions and Wolves universe but you can read this by itself, mentions of other characters but no appearances
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-12
Updated: 2014-01-12
Packaged: 2018-01-08 11:02:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1131879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa awakes the next morning accepting her lot--but she is not content to sink into melancholy over her wedding to Tyrion Lannister.  She knows from experience (rather than idealistic hope) that he is far from the worst mate Westeros and fate have to offer. Besides, he says her name the way the singers do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Lioness Born Yesterday

**Author's Note:**

> I can't...stop...writing Sanrion...ugh.
> 
> *sobs* they're my perfect babies and I don't want them to ever hurt...*sobs some more*

She let him stroke her hair and body over the night. Tyrion had helped her clean herself of the blood and cum, washing her tears as well as they rained down. She’d stopped crying before she fell asleep, curled around where he sat in the middle of his— _their_ —bed, her cheek pillowed on his thigh. She was tired from the day, from her weeping, and her body ached. It was a relief to listen to him hum and turn the pages of the book he balanced on his free leg.

He’d fallen asleep hunched over her, and she looked at him in silence as dawn broke and slowly lit the room. Sansa took in his scars and the stern set of his mouth even while he rested. She had expected he wouldn’t comfort her after, believing her to be as weak and foolish as every other person in King’s Landing did for allowing herself to be passed from Joffrey to himself. What Tyrion had done instead was kind, and his face had been sad as he helped her. She wondered if he’d ever planned on marrying, or if he would still consult whores for his urges now that he had Sansa.

There was a tiny spark of hope that he would stay faithful to her, that she would at least have that from the songs that she’d so long ago stopped believing or waiting for.

The sun was well risen by the time he stirred, groaning slightly at the crick in his neck from sleeping sitting up. Sansa had not moved from where she’d woken, instead dozing on and off and enjoying the quiet of their rooms. The fact that after she’d had the servant who delivered breakfast inform the rest of the staff they were not needed for the day had left her with a peaceful listlessness. If she wanted to lay here in her nightgown, her head resting on Tyrion’s thigh as he slept, there was nothing that could stop her.

Newly married couples were usually expected to make an appearance the day after but they were not required to, and she had been obviously close to Tyrion when the servant had seen her—whatever rumors were spread, they would not be ones of marital discord after the king had ordered her to lay with Tyrion. Her husband was brave, she thought as she sat up a little to let him stretch properly, he had in the privacy of the room defied the king and only backed down when Lord Tywin murmured some cutting remark for Tyrion’s ears only.

Her husband, half her height, twisted and scarred by birth and life, had moved to put himself between her and his father then. It was subtle and accompanied with words of surrender but it had happened. Lord Tywin had said something cruel and threatening and her husband had moved to defend her. In the warm light of morning she thought him very brave for doing so after the horrors inflicted on her while the court stood silently by. A little was monumental, and were she a year younger it would have brought tears to her eyes.

Tyrion had told her, just before she’d fallen asleep, that his father had gotten what he wanted from them and would leave them alone for the time being.

“My lady I hope you have ordered our servants away for the day,” he said after getting his back to pop several times, his voice weary and exhausted. Sansa sat up, pulling her hair over her shoulder to start unbraiding it.

“I did, after Wenna brought our breakfast. Apparently the king wanted us to eat our fill, she brought us two trays of food.”

He made a sound of acknowledgement followed by a tiny groan, and Sansa turned to look at him rubbing at his neck and shoulder. He was her husband, and he was in pain—and she hoped to earn the sort of loyalty from him that her mother had failed to with her father. She dropped her braid and crawled behind him with a softly murmured command to drop his hands to his lap. Tyrion was slow to obey but she waited patiently for him before laying her hands on his body, just the thin layer of his night shirt between her fingers and his flesh.

It was bizarre to touch another person of her own volition. It felt like it had been forever. Her husband’s muscles were tense and twisted together from stress and the position he’d slept in, and she bit her lip as she increased the firmness of her hands on him. Hopefully he knew it would have to hurt before the muscles would relax—Mother had said that the blood was cut off from the knots and that the ache and pain was from renewed flow.

Tyrion only hummed appreciatively as she worked, never twitching from her fingers. When she finally felt that he was no longer in pain, she gently guided him to lay across her lap and threaded her fingers through his hair.

“Tyrion?”

“Yes Sansa?” she felt something deep in her belly curl at the way he said her name. The Northron and Estern way of saying her name was with a broad, flat tongue making the ‘a’s turn soft and airy like summer air. Tyrion’s Wistern method was with a slight dip in the tongue, giving the ‘a’s a cavern to play and almost echo in. As ridiculous as it was, it made her feel special. The Mad Queen Cersei had always made an almost sarcastic effort to say Sansa’s name the way her own lady mother did.

Tyrion said her name like the singers did.

“Will you teach me to please you? Or—help me?” She was still sore, but surely her husband—with his reputation for how much he loved a woman’s bed—would know his way around it. His eyes had drifted shut as he lay in her lap, but now they opened at her question. She only prayed that he would be honest with her as so few were.

“I had thought you would be glad to be rid of my attentions after what I put you through last night?”

Sansa colored at his words, knowing that to be her gut reaction to the situation. To never let him touch her naked body again, to scream and cry to the high septon for an annulment. But this marriage was bringing peace to Westeros, and there were truly worse things in this world than bedding Tyrion Lannister. She’d seen some of them, even.

“Neither of us asked for or wanted last night, but what’s done is done. I am your wife, you are my husband—and I would like to know you and how to please you.” She left unvoiced that she hoped he would do the same, trying to not stretch her luck so soon in the game. Her lessons at the hands of the Mad Queen and King Joffrey had left her cautious.

“You worry I will stray from your bed, and,” he heaved a huge sigh, one she was surprised to hear from his form, “given my history you have every right to be worried. Please have no fear, Sansa, I will keep  true to you as your husband.” He trailed off then, reaching up to cup the side of her neck while his thumb rubbed on her collarbone. Sansa held still, looking into his eyes as he wrestled with his next words.

“If I teach you what makes me happy I shall owe you a debt when you _do_ make me happy, my lady, and you shall therefore have to teach me as well so that I might pay my debts,” there was a reluctant smile in his voice as he leaned up and trailed the backs of his fingers gently down her cheek. The floating thoughts that her marriage would mean everything to everyone aside from  the participants evaporated like morning mist as he sat properly on the bed and drew her in for a kiss.


End file.
